Fifteen years ago when my husband and I were just two young parents perplexed and bewildered by a single mewling infant, we used to joke that theoretically we were still in good shape as long as the children didn’t outnumber us, the adults (by default).
Three children later we are indeed outnumbered by a two to one ratio. Once the kids get wise to their advantage, they could possibly stage a coup, but for now, we’re doing pretty good.
By definition pretty good means: none of them have been eaten by sharks, mauled by zombies, or swallowed whole by an anaconda. Sure our sanity takes a beating on a regular basis, but who’s doesn’t?
Sometimes if I can find the time or inclination, I blog. Other times I fall face down on my mattress with my shoes still on.
Eventually they’ll grow up and our bustling house will be breathtakingly silent, in which case I may have to purchase a capuchin monkey I can dress like a baby.
But I have a few years before I have to face that reality.